Good ol' child logic
This a long one. When i was about 7 or so I was biking outside the front of my house with my best mate at the time (who still is actually even if he's a "bit" of a chav). Anyway we see coloured smoke rising up and wonder what it is, but realise we don't know where it is. Eentually my best mate from school rides along and tells us the paint factory is on fire. "Cool" say we, and off we go to see the pretty colours (and inhale paint fumes). All the way out of town and down at an industrial estate. Next thing we know it's 7.00 and it's past our 6 o'clock curfew. Normal logic would say "Oh crap! Lets get home as fast as we can so we don't get in trouble" Child logic says "Oh crap! We can't go home now! Let's run away!" So we did. As far as my best friend from schools house. We got dinner in order to avoid going back, and hung out riding around out the front insisting our parents knew we were here and we were allowed out so late. Eventually (around 11pm) my friends mum seeminly called our parents on the sly and they were promptly around to pick us up. Unfortunately my parents aren't the forgiving kind and I couldn't ride my bike for a week, not because I wasn't allowed but because i couldn't sit down.

Lately though I discovered child logic never really dies. After a day of getting stoned/boozed up at my old house. I went home to discover I'd lost my keys. Started knocking loudly and shouting my arse off and getting no reply even though the kitchen light was on. Instead of waiting a couple of mins I decided if I wasn't wanted I wasn't going to stay. Bear in mind this was about midnight, and so I thought my dad was just refusing to open the door. I decided I'd go to my brother's flat and try and kip there. Near the town centre. About an hours's walk away... So off I go, 45 minutes later only to discover my brother's not in. "Crap... Well I can't go back home, and I can't get into my old house, hmmmm... I'm a reasonably good looking fellow." (I was drunk at the time) "Maybe I can pull some ugly slapper coming out of the clubs and have a place to stay" this was a sound plan except
1. I'm not attractive.
2. It's a sunday night/monday morning and the clubs are dead.
After a load of time wandering around the desrted town center I hear a "Hey there, don't I know you from somewhere" and turn around to be greeted by 2 chavvy yet quite fit (drunken state) girls. We spark up some fags and a convo but no matter how many veiled allusions are made to going back to hers 'Ayesha' ain't biting. And her friend looks completely disinterested. Eventually I settle for her number and realise the plan isn't going to work, and I need to find somewhere to sleep. I walk back to the park near my house, get to the bench and get maybe 2 hours of uncomfortable sleep, but wake up to the most fantastic dawn ever. After an hour of just watching the dawn, I decide to get home, and on the way lose Ayesha's number (written on fag carton) to possible prostitute Debbie. Now Debbie was interesting. Gold teeth, gian hooped earrings and trackies, voice completely buggered by chain-smoking, wrinkles of a 90 year old when she was possibly 25. She was round her boyfriend/whatevers house at 5am shouting for the £5 he owed her so she could get some fags. Of course I offered her one, which became 2 whilst Debbie griped to me about life in general. Even pointed out her house to me which I thought was cool, might've been the start of a beautiful friendship. Then she grabbed my arse and I realised it was time to go. Bastard thing is when I got in my folks had just thought I was sleeping at my old house, and hadn't actually tried to lock me out but had come to the door after I had prematurely left and thought it was just kids. My brother's whose flat I was gonna go to had actually been the one in the kitchen and had fallen asleep there. Semi-ran away and wasn't even missed. Damned Child logic.

And again length runs in the family.
(Habacock, Sat 12 Aug 2006, 3:13, Reply)